


Starch

by FroldGapp



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, SHEITH - Freeform, Spoilers, in as much as dietary restrictions, shiro is lovely, vld s3 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 03:39:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11728734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroldGapp/pseuds/FroldGapp
Summary: Stiff. Odourless. Tasteless. He found the lie in the most mundane of places. This isn't Shiro, it can't be, because the memories don't fit anymore.





	Starch

**Author's Note:**

> No beta! Such late night! Many mistakes! Much will clean up later!
> 
> This story assumes knowledge of Kuron!Shiro

The kitchen was quiet. Just the two of them.

‘Keith? Would you like some?’

He was offered a steaming bowl of a rice-like grain.

**OoO**

‘There’s no need to be nervous.’ Shiro gently guided Keith’s hand away from where it was picking at the corner of the tablecloth.

‘Do I look nervous?’ Keith asked, earnest, as he was always earnest. A creature completely without guile.

Shiro sucked air through his teeth, eyes crinkling with a smile that was threatening to explode him from the inside. He pressed his lips together and held his thumb and index finger an inch apart. Keith groaned and slid down his seat in a seeming attempt to disappear fully under the table. The white dress shirt bunched up on his thin frame until his collar could have passed for a dog’s surgical cone.

‘You know I’m not good at meeting parents and stuff,’ the cadet grumbled, bright eyes casting this way and that, watchful of any unwanted attention.

Shiro pressed a hand to his shoulder and shepherded him back to sitting. ‘They want to meet you. Mum especially. I think she’s reliving her piloting days through you. I'm told she was also a brat.’ Keith _tsk_ ed and folded his arms. Shiro unfolded them and tugged the shirt back into place with a few practised snaps. ‘They follow your test scores as closely as mine; ask me why I couldn’t have beaten you. I have to explain we’re not quite there with the time machine yet but if I could go back and beat your scores I would in a second.’ Keith had returned to disassembling the tablecloth with his stubby fingernails one thread at a time, ostensibly disinterested. Shiro persisted. ‘They’re excited I’ve found a friend.’

That gave the cadet pause. He withdrew his hands.

‘Whatever,’ he said, shoving his shoulder lightly against Shiro’s. And, aha! There was a smile; faint as a dying echo.

OoO

‘Takashi told us some of your test flights are being turned into sim runs. A first for a cadet.’ Mrs Shirogane was a statue, same as her son. Tall with broad shoulders, clever eyes, a high hairline, and a mouth like a hyphen broadcast a ‘don’t fuck with me vibe’ that made it difficult for Keith to look at her directly, let alone speak. Or swallow his wine. He wondered if disappearing under the table was already out of the question.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he managed, his face burning with the attention.

Beside him, Shiro was a pool of contentment. Perhaps pride even. How could he be so relaxed? He may as well have been lounging on the garrison roof; all playful laughs and round shoulders, one arm slung along the back of Keith’s chair.

‘Ever consider...’ Shiro’s father began, eyes signalling the dad-joke from miles ahead. He leaned across the table, his son deftly rescuing his tie before it slipped into his drink. ‘Giving this old slow-poke a chance to reclaim his titles?’ He threw a thumb at Shiro and winked at Keith who laughed despite himself.

‘I’m not sure the regulation helmet would fit any longer if I did, sir.’

Mr Shirogane clapped his hands loudly and guffawed. He held both palms out to Keith who – horrified in the face of his own ignorance ( _do I clap? shake? high-five?)_ – returned the gesture with a weak thumbs up. He may have made a noise. He wasn’t sure. Shiro fondly grasped his father’s hands, and turned his disbelieving eyes on Keith. His faux-shocked mouth was a perfect ‘O’.

'He's saying you'd get a big head, Takashi!' his father exclaimed.

‘The wine’s made him cheeky,’ Shiro groused, giving Keith’s earlobe a pinch.

Grinning, his mother tilted her glass at Keith. ‘I’d say something about how it’s good you keep him grounded, but that’s hardly accurate. I believe you practically frog-marched him to the early Kerberos tests.’

‘He did.’

‘I did.’

'A drink to that,' she said, and raised her glass.

The waiter appeared behind Keith like a phantom. He nearly leapt out of his seat when the man asked if they were ready to order. Keith remembered dumbly why he so hated dining out.

‘You can eat everything, Keith?’ Mrs Shirogane asked, glancing up from the menu. 'A cast-iron military gut?'

Keith swallowed, nodded and smiled. She beamed back and ordered for the table.

Shiro leaned close and whispered, ‘I thought you had a special menu at the barracks, no?’

Keith shrugged, conscious to avoid either of the Shiroganes noticing the exchange. He would _not_ be a problem child at this table. ‘It’s fine, Shiro,’ he said, and drained his glass. ‘I’m fine.’

OoO

The noise was more animal than human and seemed to come from somewhere far south of Keith’s sternum, deep within the impressively distended belly he was nursing between both hands.

‘So, you’re “not good with most starches". As in: most staples of a human diet.’ Air quotes executed, Shiro folded his arms across his chest. He was _very_ unimpressed. On returning to the barracks, Keith was doubled over and almost bursting out of his tight black trousers.

‘Beans are sometimes okay,’ Keith mumbled, defensively. Whether he was defending himself or beans was unclear. He groaned, long and loud, and flipped onto his side, sweaty back to Shiro.

The older pilot sighed and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘You’re so…’

One violet eye glared expectantly over a pale, quaking shoulder.

Shiro rolled his eyes. ‘You.' He flicked Keith's ear. 'The menu was so big mum had to hold it with both hands. There were options. We didn’t have to have paella.’

Keith mumbled something unintelligible.

‘Pardon?’

‘Was a meal to share!’ Pure belligerence. How could this whirlwind be the most steady-handed pilot the garrison had ever seen?

‘We could have shared a barbecue.’

‘Didn't want to be difficult. I want them to like me.’

‘I don’t think rice is a deal-breaker, Keith.’

No response. Fated into forever taking the highroad when Keith was being a strop, Shiro leaned forward and pulled him onto his back without much resistance. Keith’s skin was cold and clammy to the touch; his face the picture of misery. Pout at DEFCON 1. 

‘God save me’, Shiro thought. He couldn’t help it. He laughed through his nose.

Keith looked appalled. ‘ _What_ are you laughing at?’

Holding one knuckle to his mouth, Shiro tried to contain himself. He could not. He laughed again; a sharp ‘Ha!’ that rang like a struck anvil.

Keith eyed him with an ever-deepening frown. Shiro poked his bloated stomach. It was hard as rock.

Keith made a curious _meep!_ sound and followed the finger like an indignant cat.

Another poke.

'Shiro.'

His voice broke as he fawned, ‘Look at your little _belly_.’

‘ _Shiro_... _’_

It was only a matter of time really. He was only human. Shiro pushed back Keith’s sweat-damp hair and used the moment’s distraction to lean in and blow an exultant raspberry on his tummy.

‘ _Shiro!_ ’ came the scandalised squawk followed by valiant, but ultimately futile, attempts to escape.

‘Ah, ah!’ Shiro continued his assault, heart swelling with each joyful shriek that erupted from Keith. ‘You can’t lose me that easily, Kogane! And now I know your greatest weakness! Bread rolls and rice balls!’

‘Idiot!’ yelled Keith, panting and laughing. The boys tumbled around the bed like a pair of drunk wrestlers, Shiro blowing raspberries wherever Keith left himself open. ‘Idiot,’ Keith repeated breathily, tears spilling from his warm, wild eyes.

**OoO**

‘Keith? Would you like some?’

He was offered a steaming bowl of a rice-like grain.

He shook his head slowly and sat. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’ His hands trembled. He coughed and smiled, remembering himself. ‘Thank you, Shiro.’

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's first strictly Sheith fic!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr, and for the love of God someone jump into the S4 speculation hole with me! Please?! https://froldgapp.tumblr.com/post/163844513796/voltron-s3s4-thoughts
> 
> I h/c that Keith needs to eat a shit-tonne of meat and gets sick if he eats too much starch.
> 
> I h/c that room hangs are totally normal between them.
> 
> I h/c Keith is the belligerent cat that nevertheless always chooses to be in the same room as you.


End file.
